


The Subjectiveness of Protectiveness

by happyaspie



Series: Spider-man Stories: Not Otherwise Specified [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguments and Disagreements, Banter, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Hand Wavy Medical Logic, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Peter Parker, Just Go With It..., Light Angst, Medical Doctor Bruce Banner, Medical Inaccuracies, Peter Parker Hiding Injuries™️, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Peter Parker, Stabbing, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark cares, Tony Stark is trying his best, Whump, everyone is trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyaspie/pseuds/happyaspie
Summary: When Peter is injured outside of his suit by a woman who has a grudge against Iron Manand has come to the conclusion that he's Tony Stark's son, he decides that his best course of action is to not tell anyone.  He doesn't want May to worry but more than anything he doesn't want his mentor to feel guilty about it.  Especially when the threat has already been taken care of and he has a healing factor.  However, when things don't go as planned he ends up finding himself in a situation that leaves him with no choice but to reveal what he's been hiding.Tony is not impressed.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Spider-man Stories: Not Otherwise Specified [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574956
Comments: 57
Kudos: 318
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2020





	1. 'I've Got This'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phoenix_Fire_22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Fire_22/gifts).



> I was asked to step in and be a pinch hitter for the Irondad Fic Exchange and I couldn't have been more pleased about having been assigned to write for Phonenix_Fire_22! 
> 
> The prompt I chose to work with was:
>
>> Peter gets attacked as Peter Parker and can't defend himself as well or else he'll give himself away as enhanced. The injury is bad but Peter keeps it to himself until he ends up collapsing in front of Tony. (Maybe he doesn't tell him because he'd feel Tony would blame himself. Like maybe the guy attacked Peter because he has something against Tony and knows Peter interns for him.) 
> 
> I _maybe_ got a little carried away but I really hope you enjoy it!! 

"See you next week, Mr. Stark," Peter called over his shoulder as he darted out of the lab, Saturday evening. He'd been there since school had let out on Friday and as much as he enjoyed the extended amounts of time he'd started spending with his mentor, he was eager to squeeze in some patrolling before curfew. The plan had been to walk two blocks over, making it possible for him to slip into a darkened alley and change into the Spider-suit but he didn't even make it one before his senses started warning him of impending danger.

The problem was that he was still wearing his street clothes, meaning that simply jumping into action as he wanted to, wasn't advisable. Instead, he was left to casually assess the situation, hopefully without letting on that he was enhanced. He peered up towards the sky and cut his eyes around the area before nonchalantly brushing some invisible dust off of his shoulder so that he was able to look behind him. It took him a moment to locate the source of his spider-induced anxiety but as soon as he'd laid eyes on a woman that was lingering in the shadows he knew he'd found it. 

Peter's entire body was insisting that defending himself was crucial, as the unidentified person approached him. His web-shooters felt heavy against his wrist and he was itching to press the trigger. Except he didn't, because by doing so he would be giving away his secret identity and that wasn't an option. He needed to be patient, to wait and see if she was going to make a move.

"Hello, young man," the woman said sweetly. "I was wondering if you would be willing to help me out. I'm new around here and I seem to have gotten myself turned around. Do you know where the closest subway station is?"

The closer she got the more his senses screamed but Peter stood firm. "Oh, um, sure. It's about three blocks that way," he replied, gesturing to the right of the upcoming intersection. He noticed that she seemed to be hesitating and was considering adding a few landmarks to his directions but she spoke first.

"Actually, would you mind walking with me?" she asked with pleading eyes and a closed-off posture that made Peter feel a little bit bad for her despite his own unease. "It's getting dark and I really don't want to be by myself out here."

After taking a few seconds to weigh his options, Peter nodded his head. The subway station she was heading towards would be a heavily populated area and he figured that by walking her there himself, that would give him the opportunity to sneak off and change into his suit. Then, if by chance, she decided to cause any kind of chaos, he would be ready for it. "I guess I can do that. I was on my way there anyway," he easily lied and she responded by snaking her arm through his.

The moment the woman's hand touched him, Peter's senses flared, screaming that there was an immediate danger but, again he didn't react for fear of outing his vigilante alter-ego. Then the next thing he knew, he was being flipped onto his back in one swift motion. He could have jumped up, he could have pinned her to a wall, he could have utilized his webs but instead, he allowed himself to dragged into the narrow space between two nearby buildings. 

By the time he'd been pulled out of sight from any passers-by, he was already considering how he could pull out of the woman's hold without causing any suspicion. His mind quickly went back to all the times that he and Tony had trained together. The man had taught him more than a few moves that would serve the purpose and he estimated that if he cut his strength by a little more than half, it would be possible for him to get away without giving the lady anything to over-analyze. 

After all, there were a lot of kids his age who took karate and self-defense classes. It wouldn't be terribly farfetched for him to have done similarly. So, with a deep breath, he twisted his body in a way that would loosen her grip on his wrist but she seemed to have anticipated the action and was quick to adjust her hold. 

"It figures that Stark would teach you how to do something like that," the aggressor growled into his ear, causing little red flags to go up in Peter's head, because while she seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he was Spider-man, she also seemed to be well aware of his connection to Tony and Stark Industries, thus changing his plan. He needed to know what she was after.

"What does Mr. Stark have to do with any of this? What do you want from me?" he asked, masking his curiosity with feigned trepidation as he attempted to pull her into a monologue. He wasn't surprised when it worked. If nearly always did. He would never understand why bad guys were always so keen to reveal their evil plans but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth and remained quiet as she seethed.

"I want to make him suffer just as he made me suffer. I, like so many others, used to believe that he was a hero, that Iron Man was going to be the one to save us all. That is until he traded my husband and daughter's lives in for the sake of others. He called it the greater good. He said that he couldn't save everyone but he didn't have to watch his family getting crushed by falling debris," the lady said, her voice rising with her explanation. Then, there was a pause and Peter could feel her fingernails digging into the back of his neck. "So I started watching him in hopes of finding a weakness and that's when I found out about _you_. I realized that you and Stark are close"

"-I'm just his intern!" Peter interjected and that wasn't a lie. If anyone were to break into the Stark Industries database, they would find his name nestled neatly between Carl O'Neil and Quinn Parsons in the intern directory. It was just another one of the little fail-safes that Tony had put into place. It gave him a legitimate reason to be coming and going throughout the building and if anyone bothered to investigate further, they would find that he was Tony's _personal_ intern, thus explaining his higher than average clearance level. He wondered how close she had to have been watching to discover that there was anything more to it. 

"An intern that spends _entire weekends_ with him? An intern that he has his _personal_ head of security pick up from school? I don't think so," she scoffed, answering Peter's question without ever having to ask it. She'd been surveilling the entrances and exits, probably for weeks. But it was her next words that had his head spinning. "You're either his son or the closest thing he has to one. I don't actually care which. I just know that if anything happens to you, he'll be crushed and that's all that matters to me."

Deciding that he had all the information necessary to pursue her later, Peter abruptly raised his arms, causing her to lose her hold, but this time she wasn't prepared, allowing him the opportunity to strike her in the face with the heel of his palm before turning to run. However, as the assailant cupped her bleeding nose with one hand, she pulled a dagger, seemingly out of nowhere, with the other and launched it in his direction. Not dodging it at all wasn't a choice as it was headed straight for his carotid artery but he had to do something so without hesitation, he moved his body in such a way that the weapon would land in his bicep rather than his neck.

The pain that shot through Peter's arm was powerful but he kept running, all the same, taking care to keep himself at a non-enhanced human speed. The woman began to shout and chase after him as he fled towards the empty street but he didn't allow her to overtake his pace.

"Go ahead and run home to Daddy! But even he can't save you now," she yelled, leaving Peter to wonder what the cryptic statement was meant to convey. He'd gotten away with nothing more than a small stab wound. Sure it hurt, _it hurt a lot_ but she was making it sound as though he were in some sort of mortal danger making him wonder what exactly she planned to try next.

Once he'd gotten far enough away from the woman that he was sure she'd stopped pursuing him, Peter ducked behind a dumpster and ripped the bottom of his t-shirt off to use as a bandage after he'd removed the blade from his arm. yanking it out was painful and knotting the strip of cloth tightly around it was nearly excruciating. However, as much as he wanted to take a moment to allow the pain to subside prior to putting his suit on there just wasn't time. It was vital that he locate the person who had been after him before she disappeared off the map. Not just because he didn't want to be cornered again but because he was worried that she would eventually choose to hurt Tony instead, and he had to power through to prevent that from happening.

By the time he'd pulled his mask down over his face, Peter had half-expected his AI to insist on contacting Tony in regards to the laceration or, at minimum, question him about it but she didn't. All he managed to come up with was that there must have been some kind of loophole within the coding that allowed Karen to overlook the injury, as it had taken place _outside of the suit._ As he scaled the wall beside him, he made a mental note to double-check his theory later. It sounded like something that would be really good to know but maybe not share with his mentor.

From the top of the building, he was able to scan the area while hopping from rooftop to rooftop and eventually found his target still slinking around near the tower. There was no consideration before he swung down and webbed her to the ground with force. "I saw what you did to that kid back there, Lady, and I don't know where you came from, but attempted kidnapping and bodily injury to a minor is frowned upon here in New York," he quipped, taking care to thicken his accent and deepened his voice as much as possible. When all she did was snarl back at him he shook his head and had Karen call it into the police, hoping that Spider-man's word, against hers, would be enough to keep her locked away. Though he did make a point of leaving the dagger, wiped clean of his DNA, and a short note beside her before crawling up a building and sitting on a darkened ledge until he was sure that the authorities had apprehended and carted her away.

With adrenalin no longer masking the pain, Peter could feel his bicep beginning to throb as he swung across the city and crept through the window and into his bedroom, where he immediately disengaged the suit to find that he'd bled through the bandage he'd created. He shuddered at the sight because the amount of crimson coating his arm was significantly more than he'd expected. Though he wasn't sure why. He'd taken first aid classes and had known from the get-go that, _technically_ , you weren't supposed to extract any kind of foreign object from your body without medical supervision for that very reason. But he hadn't really had any other choice, he reasoned with himself. It wasn't like it would have been possible to pull the suit up over the hilt. But it was fine. He had a healing factor that would take care of the majority of the damage overnight. 

The apartment was quiet when Peter cracked his door open and that was good. It meant that his aunt wasn't home yet, making it far easier for him to get down the hall and into the bathroom without her realizing that he was hurt. He didn't need her to worry. She worried enough as it was. He also didn't need her to call Tony but that was due to a whole different array of reasons that he didn't have time to think about it because he was really eager to get washed up ahead of May walking in and starting to ask him his opinions on dinner.

He stepped into the shower and allowed the warm spray to wash away the caked blood and forced himself to run a soapy washcloth over the worst of it. Once he was able to get a good look at it, he recognized that it probably required some stitches. Even after drying off and patting the laceration dry, it continued to ooze. For a moment he considered sucking it up and calling Tony. Then the words ' _-and if you die, I feel like that’s on me_ ,' rang clearly in his head, bolstering every single one of his earlier thoughts about not wanting his mentor to know anything pertaining to what had taken place that evening. If the man found out that he'd been nearly kidnapped and successfully stabbed by someone who had a vendetta against him, he would feel responsible and Peter had no desire for that to happen. Therefore, he elected to pull the first aid kit out from under the sink and apply a few butterfly bandages, next wrapping it in some fresh gauze.

May walked in at about the same time Peter was tugging a loose sweatshirt over his head. The cool temperatures that he'd been complaining about since his DNA had been altered were finally doing something in his favor. No one would question him wearing long-sleeves in the middle of January. He groaned as he threaded his arm through the shirt and realized that there was at least one other thing working to his benefit; The injury was on his non-dominant, left arm rather than his right. That, hopefully making it less obvious that he was favoring it. 

"Hey, Sweety. I was thinking about throwing some wings in the oven for dinner. You okay with that? I could make spaghetti if you'd rather" May distractedly inquired as he made his way into the open room.

Peter shifted his weight, nodded his head, and crossed his arms over his chest so that he could casually support his still throbbing appendage before opening his mouth. "Sure. I love wings," he said, somehow managing to mask the discomfort that was trying to slip into his voice. "How, how was your day?"

"Stressful," May replied with a dry laugh but she was smiling her usual bright smile so Peter didn't try to read too much into it. Especially when she brushed right past it herself. "-but that's nothing new. How about you? How was your weekend with Tony? Good?"

"Good. We got a lot done," Peter returned before deciding that, as much as he wanted to, he really didn't have the capacity to keep up any sort of conversation at the moment. "-but I, uh, I still have some homework to finish up. I just wanted to see you. Call me for dinner?" he added, offering a smile that he hoped was coming across as genuine but it didn't seem to matter because his aunt had already ducked behind the counters.

"You bet!" May shouted, shooting him a thumbs up from where she was still rummaging through the pots and pans in the lower cabinets.

Despite the burning that was taking over the entirety of his upper arm, Peter managed to make it all the way to his loosely established bed-time without drawing any suspicion and sighed in relief as he lay back in his bed. Come morning, the cut would be all but gone. All he had to do was go to sleep. Except, rather than waking up Sunday morning feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day, Peter was jolted back into consciousness when he inadvertently rolled onto his side and a white-hot pain erupted like fire through his bicep. He had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from crying out. 

With watery eyes, he sat up and slowly removed his top. The gauze he'd placed the evening prior were no longer white, provoking a curse to fly off of his tongue and when he pulled the sterile dressing away to investigate, he nearly vomited. The healthy pink sink that had been surrounding the wound had turned to a sickening gray overnight, worse was the yellowish-green discharge that was starting to appear as he pressed near it. "What the hell?" he whispered because healing factor aside, he couldn't understand how a lesion could have gotten so bad in less than twenty-four hours' time.

While gently wiping the area clean with some over the counter antiseptic, he thought back to the ambiguous threat that the woman had issued once he'd escaped. _'Even he can't save you now_ ' At the time, he'd thought that she was referring to a broader or secondary plan that he'd not thwarted by eluding capture. However, given the current circumstances, he was starting to think that, perhaps she was referring to his injury. Poison would make sense. Anyone crazy enough to take their grudge so far as to throw a dagger at someone purely for the satisfaction of seeing someone else in emotional distress was probably also crazy enough to add a toxin into the mix. 

He tried to think back to all of the analysis that he and Tony had done on his healing factor, with the help of the Bruce Banner. From that, he knew his enhanced healing generally sped up his recovery time by approximately eighty-percent, turning a ten-day recovery into two. He also knew that regular over-the-counter drugs didn't do a thing for him because his body would naturally flush them out the moment they dissolved. Based on those statistics he could surmise that if there had been poison on the blade, it would do nothing more than slow the time that it took for the laceration to close, meaning that he would have to be more diligent about keeping it cleaned, wrapped and hidden for a little while longer and that _sounded_ manageable.

Over the next few days, keeping the injury a secret from May was easy enough. He would show up for meals, put on a happy face, and then disappear into his room to study or slip the suit on to go out on a light patrol. Whenever he did that, he made a point of sticking to the little guy stuff. Helping to find a lost dog, stopping a small-time bike thief, and doing a lot of general ' _observing._ ' Between all of those things, there was school and he'd also managed to get through that without too much trouble. Gym was the worst of it and seeing as Dodge-ball had been the game of choice for the week, it wasn't too bad. He'd allow the ball to hit him on the back of the head and then take a seat beside MJ on the bleachers to read. The next _real challenge_ came on Wednesday when he was meant to go back to the tower for what Tony had dubbed, ' _Lab Day._ '

"Hey, kid," Tony greeted as Peter entered the workshop. "Get over here and help me with this."

Peter adjusted the bag on his shoulder and bit back the yelp that had threatened to break free. He'd stuffed his bag with an entire pharmacy's worth of supplies and had been tending the wound as often as he could while at school. However, it had been a few hours since he'd had the chance to properly look at it, and knew it was overdue for some attention. 

In retrospect, he realized that he probably should have rebandaged it before he'd walked into the lab but he was already there and couldn't rightly ignore it any longer. So, he forced a smile and thumbed towards the wooden door beside him. "Two minutes? I need to use the bathroom really quickly," he stated, already heading that way. 

"I've been waiting all day, _I suppose_ two more minutes won't kill me," Tony replied with a roll of his eyes but he did give a second glace when he noticed that the kid had hauled his backpack into the bathroom with him. However, after a moment of thought, he batted away the mild concern. The kid was probably in a hurry and didn't think to drop the bag first. 

When Peter re-entered the room a few minutes later, Tony set him to work on some new technology he'd been waiting to show him. Though, he noticed nearly instantly that his favorite young adult wasn't being nearly as attentive as he was used to him being. Upon further scrutiny, he realized that the teenager was also being extremely ginger with his left arm but the observation that caused the most apprehension, came to him in the form of a flinch when he stood behind the kid and placed his hands heavily onto his shoulders. "What's up, Pete?" he asked when the boy remained stiff even after the initial jolt.

"Nothing, Nothing's up, Mr. Stark," Peter replied, swallowing hard and forcing himself to loosen up. 

Tony hummed in response and moved one hand to give the back of the boy's neck a gentle squeeze. "Then why are you so tense?" he asked.

"I'm not tense, you just surprised me, that's all," Peter returned without missing a beat. It had surprised him. Not the physical contact. That was familiar and under any other circumstances, appreciated. What he'd been surprised by was the renewed ache that had come from the touch. He'd been so deeply invested in the project in front of him that he'd forgotten about the injury altogether.

" _I_ surprised _you_?" Tony asked with a quirk of his brow. "I thought you had some kind of weird spider warning-system. What did you call it? You're Spider-tingle?" he asked with mirth, while his eyes were filled with nothing but concern.

"Spider _-sense_ , Mr. Stark, and _please_ don't ever call it my any kind of tingle ever again," Peter groused with a mild glare. 

"Sorry, Buddy. No promises," Tony laughed and then began to nonchalantly run his palms towards the kid's arms but before he could, the kid was jerking out of his grasp.

"Don't!" he shouted before he could stop himself and could feel the man's hands lift away from him completely. A small amount of guilt was just starting to seep in when the man turned his chair so that they were facing each other.

"Alright, Cut the crap. What's wrong with your arm?" Tony asked with a slight scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. He'd been patient enough and was ready for some answers. "Because I've not gotten any kind of an injury report from your AI in over a week. You had better not have messed with that code again."

"I didn't!" Peter snapped back but was quick to tone himself down. " _I didn't._ I'm just a little sore. Peter stuff. Not Spider-man stuff. No big deal," he vaguely explained, cutting his eyes to the floor as he did so.

"Kid, if it hurts then it's a big deal. Talk to me so I can help you," Tony pleaded.

Feeling unreasonably annoyed by the sudden interrogation, Peter growled. "I don't need your help, Mr. Stark! God, I'm not seven. I can take care of myself!" he yelled and then watched as Tony took a few steps back and squared his jaw. 

"Alright, kiddo. We'll have it your way," Tony replied, sounding both affronted and worried at the same time. "But you know you can come to be if you need anything, right? Anything at all?"

_"Yes,_ " Peter stressed and then turned his chair back around so that he couldn't see the man's reaction. "Now, can we get back to the actual reason that I'm here?"

Tony gave the kid one last analyzing look and agreed before jumping back into his previous explanation.

At the end of the night, Peter swung home as best he could with one hand. The entire evening had felt slightly strained and he couldn't get the image of Tony's tight features out of his head. He didn't like it when Tony was mad at him but he kept telling himself that it was necessary. If the man found out about the gash or its origin, he would find himself culpable and it just wasn't worth it. Not when the lady had already been taken care of and he had a healing factor. "If it's not better in- _a week,_ then- then I'll tell someone," he quietly resolved. "I still have it under control."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **So... Peter says he has this under control... but does he though? _Does he really?_ Let me know what you think in the comments below! **


	2. 'I Don't Got This'

As much as Peter wholeheartedly believed that he was doing just fine on his own, he wasn't. Because the very next morning, the still-open wound had rapidly gone from looking bad to looking downright gruesome but still, he wavered about what he should do. Logically he knew that it would be wise to go to an adult who could make a more educated assessment of the situation. Yet, there was a stubborn and irrational part of his head telling him that his healing factor was going to kick in at any moment and that it would be better for everyone involved if he _simply took care of it himself._

With a few grunts of pain, he hurriedly flushed the cut and painfully rewrapped it before heading out into the kitchen where he found a couple of paper menus, a twenty-dollar bill, and a note from May. Apparently, she had taken double shifts for the next couple of days and he was going to be on his own for dinner. Ordinarily, he would be disappointed to find out that he would be spending his evenings without her company but considering how bad his injury was becoming, he was at least a little glad that he wasn't going to have to keep putting up a happy front.

As he ate his breakfast he tried to come up with anything else he could be doing to force his injury to mend itself. He'd been trying to get enough sleep and calories. He'd also been meticulous about keeping it clean but to some degree, he understood that he probably needed some kind of antibiotics.

He thought about that for several minutes before walking down the hall and into his aunt's bedroom. Being in there without her permission made him feel uneasy but he was almost sure that if he dug through the medicine cabinet in her bathroom that he would find a bottle of antibiotics with a few doses left in it. 

"Score," Peter whispered, even though there was no one there to hear him, as he located a bottle with six large capsules in it. He was aware that it would more than likely do absolutely nothing for him but he didn't see any reason not to try. He popped the cap off and swallowed down two doses at once before he ever left the bathroom and then pocketed the other four for later. 

As expected the antibiotics did nothing for his condition and it continued to worsen over the next few days. To the point that if May hadn't been alternating between exhausted and at work, she would have insisted that he stay home from school on Friday. But she was asleep and Peter wasn't going to wake her.

Getting through the school day was hard. The longer he was there the more awful he felt. It wasn't just his bicep that hurt anymore, it was his entire body. His joints ached, he was becoming slightly nauseous and his head felt fuzzy with sudden movements. Ned, MJ, and several teachers had all voiced their concerns but he'd told every single one of them that his parlor due to nothing more than an oncoming headache. He wasn't sure they bought it but he didn't care as long as they didn't talk to his aunt.

When the last bell of the day finally rang, Peter wiped away the fine sheen of sweat that had formed over his brow with the back of his hand shivered. He was supposed to be going to the Tower to spend the night with Tony, same as he did every weekend, but he wasn't sure if he should. He knew by the looks his classmates were giving him as he shuffled down the hall that he had to look bad. The problem was that after the argument he'd had with his mentor earlier in the week, he was certain that canceling would cause more concern than showing up looking a little pale. He could always blame it on a migraine. _The one malady that the man knew his mutated DNA hadn't eliminated._ Besides he didn't actually feel far from it. There had been a dull throb in the back of his head since he'd climbed out of bed that morning.

Unlike the last time he'd gone to work with Tony, Peter remembered to rebandage the injury ahead of leaving the school, earning himself an annoyed text from Happy, who wanted to know what was taking him so long. He blamed the delay on a forgotten assignment and then took a moment to splash some water on his face. When he was reasonably sure that he looked at least moderately presentable, he made his way out to the front of the school where his ride was waiting for him.

Happy stood by the passenger-side door tapping his foot but the moment Peter can into view he paused. "You look awful, kid. Are you sure you should be working in the lab like that?" he asked with his brows knit together with concern.

"It's just a headache, Happy," Peter replied with a small upturn of his lips. "Once I close my eyes for a while it'll wear off. I swear."

"If you say so," Happy dubiously replied but stepped back to allow the kid into the backseat, closing the door behind him. Then, once he was behind the wheel he peered towards the back of the car with the help of the rear-view mirror. He wasn't sure that all the kid had was a headache. He looked positively green. "Don't puke in my car," he said teasingly but he meant it. He really didn't want to have to handle the clean up that would come from that kind of a mess.

"I won't," Peter returned with a roll of his eyes that he regretted immediately when it amplified the pounding at the base of his skull, making him wince. Then, he laid his head against the cool window and allowed his eyelids to close, not opening them again until they had arrived at their destination. 

"Hey, Kiddo," Tony greeted from where he'd been waiting to meet the kid at the door. "Happy messaged me and said that you weren't feeling well," he said with soft concern. He'd been thinking about the last time he'd seen the teenager all week and the text he'd received from his friend had exacerbated his already present worry. "Do you want to go lay down for a while? We can always come back to this later."

Peter cautiously lowered his backpack onto the couch so that it wouldn't jostle his body and forced a smile. "Nah, I napped some on the way over. I'm already feeling a little better," he said as he tried to surreptitiously wipe a bead of sweat from where it was rolling down the side of his face. "Just a headache."

Tony brought his mouth into a tight, thin line and nodded his head. He, like Happy, was one hundred percent sure that it wasn't 'just a headache' that was ailing the kid but he wasn't willing to start a fight so early into their weekend together. Instead, he decided to simply keep a very close eye on him and intervene the second he felt it was necessary. "Well, let me know if it gets worse, we can always bring out the big boy medication that Big Green synthesized for you."

"Yeah. I'll let you know, Mr. Stark," Peter agreed and then sat down at his desk where he hesitated about what to do next. Despite his promise that he was any kind of feeling better, he wasn't and was having trouble imagining himself picking up any tools at the moment. Not while his arm was screaming and his own head felt heavy on his shoulders. Although, he, _in true Peter fashion_ , opted to tough it out. However, after he'd dropped the screwdriver he was using for the third time in less than ten minutes he could practically feel his mentor's gaze burning into the back of his head and wanted nothing more than to escape the room. 

"Hey, Mr.Stark? I'm going to go get a can of soda or something from upstairs," he called out, as he spun his chair away from his desk, the action causing his head to swim.

"You okay?" Tony asked, watching from afar as the kid swayed in his chair while rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Yes!" Peter snapped because the man was looking at him with soft eyes that had wrinkles of concern above them, and that was exactly what he was trying to avoid. "My head hurts and I want a drink. Just relax about it!"

Choosing to ignore the heated outburst Tony started to cross the distance between them. "I'll go get it for you-" he attempted to offer.

"-I can get it myself!" Peter snipped back but there was less passion behind that interjection than the last because the moment he jumped to his feet the room began to spin. He tried to grab onto the corner of the table beside him but it didn't help much seeing as he could feel that his knees were starting to fold beneath him. He'd just managed to slur a quiet 'Mr. Stark?' when everything went black. 

The next thing Peter knew, he was lazily blinking at his mentor who was hovering just above his head. It took him a moment to realize that he was laying on the floor with his head in the man's lap but as soon as that registered, he attempted to sit up. However, he felt a weight on his chest, keeping him from doing so. 

"Stay down, kid," Tony instructed and even through the lingering haze, Peter could tell that the man was angry with him. He opened his mouth to apologize but he couldn't focus much past the pain and the words didn't come. Instead, dark spots took over his vision again and he was back out like a light.

When he next awoke, Peter was no longer in the lab and his body no longer ached the way it had earlier. His first instinct was to reach around to check his injury but he'd barely gotten the tips of his fingers on it before he heard his mentor clearing his throat beside him.

"You back with us?" Tony asked, pausing long enough for Peter to turn his head but not long enough for him to reply, taking the reactive eye-contact as confirmation enough. "I'll take that as a yes. Are you in any pain?" 

"No," Peter croaked without a second of thought and then cringed when his mentor didn't look impressed with his answer.

"I'm serious, Pete," Tony replied with a no-nonsense air that was bordering on aggravation. "You weren't exactly conscious to give us any feedback when we administered it so we have no idea if we gave you enough painkillers or not. Therefore, I repeat. Are. You. In. Any. Pain."

Peter turned his gaze away from Tony's and tried to take inventory of his own body. His joints weren't throbbing, his arm was no longer on fire and the pressure in his head had subsided significantly so he went with that. "Not much."

"On a scale of one to ten, one being _just peachy_ and ten being complete crap, where are you?" Tony asked, still not quite ready to take the kid at his word. He'd been lying _for days._

"Maybe- maybe a three?" Peter returned and this time he was being honest. He'd already passed out, _maybe twice_ , and had been carted up to the medical wing. He'd cause enough problems already. He didn't want to add obstinance to the list of complaints.

With a curt nod, Tony took a few steps towards the door and then looked over his shoulder. "Let me know if it gets to a five, yeah?" he said and then slipped out into the hallway. "I'll be back."

When his mentor abruptly left the room, Peter's chest clenched with anxiety. He knew Tony was upset with him and he supposed that was understandable but it still hurt. He'd not meant for things to go so far. He just hoped that, in his attempt to protect the man from feeling overwhelmingly guilty about something he had no control over that he'd not ruined their relationship in the process.

Time passed and tears were just starting to burn the back of his throat when Tony reentered the room carrying a tray, Bruce Banner following close behind him. The doctor looked him over, explained what he was about to do, and then adjusted all the various tubes and wires before giving him a sympathetic look, and taking his leave.

"Here," Tony clipped once it was just the two of them left in the room and then unceremoniously dropped a plate onto the kid's lap. "You're going to eat that and I'm going to talk."

"Mr. Stark, I-" Peter began to explain, hoping to be able to say _something_ to help ease the tension but there was no time to come up with anything, let alone form the words.

"-I don't want to hear it," Tony interjected while pointing an accusatory finger in the kid's direction. "The adult is talking."

Peter did get quiet after that but he didn't eat. Whatever appetite he may have had, left him the moment his mentor had begun to glare at him. 

"That cut on your arm? You know, the one you _didn't tell anyone about_?" Tony sarcastically spat. "Banner said he'd never seen anything like it. Thinks that whatever you were stabbed with had toxins on it but I'm guessing you already knew that." 

"I wasn't-" Peter, again, attempted to clarify but it was of no use. Tony was already talking over him again.

"Zip it!" the man interrupted in favor of continuing his speech. "So, as it were, the unknown toxin slowed your healing factor down to damn near nothing, long enough for the wound to become infected. Then that infection spread until it wasn't just an infection anymore, _it was sepsis_. That, in turn, caused your blood pressure to tank and that was what caused you to drop like a fly in my lab. Which scared the life out of me, I'll have you know," he finished, his breath hitching at the end as he pictured his mentee crumpling to the floor right before his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Peter pleadingly expressed because at that point he wasn't sure what else to say.

"You should be," Tony returned without missing a beat. "You could have died, kid! This wasn't a busted nose or a broken rib, if you weren't Spider-man, this would have killed you within hours. _Hours, Pete_ , and you'd been hiding it for almost an _entire week_! Why wouldn't you tell anyone about that!"

Unsure of how he was supposed to answer that, Peter paused to gather his thoughts. His plan to keep it all a secret was falling apart so quickly that he was having trouble sorting out what information he could continue to keep to himself. "I didn't want you to worry," he finally uttered, when his mentor looked like he was going to explode if he didn't get an answer soon.

"Well _that_ ship has sailed now, hasn't it!" Tony shouted along with a dark laugh before continuing his rant. "You know, I had to dig through your AI's statistics to figure out at what point you got hurt. Then, when things didn't add up I realized _you weren't even in the suit_ when it happened. At that point, I had to compare the coordinates from when you did put the suit on with nearby police surveillance and traffic cameras to put everything together. It took me _over an hour_ of sifting through information to find out something that you could have told me in _less than ten minutes_. I wasn't even that far away, Kid! You could have come to me!"

"I couldn't! If I had then you would have-" Peter shouted back, stopping himself just short of saying anything that he would later regret but Tony was quick to pick up where he'd left off.

"-Would have what, Pete? Gotten you medical attention? Made sure that the person who threw a dagger at my kid was put away for life?" Tony scoffed. "What did you think I was going to do that made you not want to tell me about this?"

When no answer came, Tony took a deep breath in through his nose to clear his head and then nodded. "Still not talking? That's fine. You don't want to explain it to me then maybe you won't mind explaining it to May," he said with far more calm than he actually felt. "I'm sure she would _love to know what you were thinking_ when you decided to spend a week treating a septic wound all on your own."

"Don't tell, May!" Peter yelled back with wide eyes even though he knew that wasn't going to happen. He was in a hospital bed with an IV in his hand and a heart monitor on his chest. It was safe to assume that keeping his aunt out of it wasn't going to be something the man would agree to.

"I have to tell her something, Pete," Tony said with a roll of his eyes. The reality was that he should have called her already. He just didn't know what to say. He was still trying to wrap his brain around the situation himself. "I'm not going to perpetuate this idea that you've got in your head; That it's okay to keep life-threatening injuries to yourself. _And speaking of_ \- I'll be updating your AI so that nothing like this happens again," he added, then easing his tone, ever so slightly. "Now, I'm giving you one more chance. Tell me what was going through your head because the alternative is me assuming that it was intentional self-destruction."

Not wanting that to be either adult's conclusion, Peter took a deep breath and turned his eyes towards his lap. "What do you know already?" he asked with a shaky breath.

"What are you still trying to hide from me?" Tony questioned in return and Peter absolutely broke.

"She wanted to hurt you, Mr. Stark. She was only after me because she thought I was your son or the closest thing you had to a son and she wanted to hurt you," he spilled, looking up in time to see little sparks of anger flicker in his mentor's eyes. "I didn't want you to find out about any of that because you would say that it was on you and I didn't want you to feel like it was your fault. I took her down without a problem and I thought if I kept the wound clean and ate and slept like I was supposed to that my healing factor would catch up and everything would be fine."

Tony closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me get this straight. You put your _life in danger_ to protect me from- _my feelings?_ " he inquired, not quite believing what he was hearing. 

"I just didn't want that on your conscience," Peter hesitantly returned the fight that they had after the whole ferry fiasco still fresh in his memories, despite the many months that had passed since that day.

For what felt like a full minute, Tony blinked back at the teenager as his brain tried to process the clearly flawed logic. "Kid, you don't have to protect me from- well, anything. I'm the grown-up in this equation, it's my job to protect you," he said, as he tentatively placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

For a moment, Peter was quiet because when the man put it that way, it did sound like a pretty dumb thing to have done. Then he abruptly realized that by not saying anything, from the very beginning, he'd actually made everything three thousand times worse. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I guess- I- It made sense at the time. I made sure she didn't get away and I thought that I - I don't know. I'm just sorry!"

"I know you are, Buddy but this can't happen again," Tony said with an amount of softness that, at times, even he forgot that he possessed. "I don't care if you think I'll be mad, sad, guilt-ridden, or anything in between. You have to tell someone when you're hurt. Even if it has nothing to do with Spider-man because your wellbeing is important to me. And I know I've never really said it but, Pete, _I care about you._ " he added, emphasizing what he'd thought had been obvious. "I care about you _so much_ that when you passed out on me, I thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest. There was a moment there that I thought _I had lost my kid."_

"Do you really think of me as your kid, Mr. Stark?" Peter asked while carelessly picking at the hem of the blanket. The man had called him 'his kid' twice in the last thirty minutes. He'd thought the first time had been a mistake but now he wasn't so sure because he'd also said that _he cared about him._

"More and more every day, Kiddo," Tony replied with a smirk.

Peter nodded his head and offered a small half-smile. "Are you still mad at me?"

"I was never mad, Buddy. I was scared," Tony replied with a tired sigh. Though scared didn't even scratch the surface. He'd been terrified. He wasn't convinced that he wouldn't have nightmares about the moment he's seen Peter's body limply fall to the floor, for the rest of his life.

"I _really_ thought I was doing the right thing," Peter whispered, his tone seeping with remorse. "I'm _so sorry_."

"Lordy, Kid. I think you've hit your quota on the number of times you're allowed to say 'I'm sorry' today," Tony chuckled despite the seriousness of the conversation. Then he took a deep breath and pointed towards the untouched meal. "Why don't you eat that and get some rest. Dr. Hulkster should be by later to check on you and May will be here this evening, I'm sure."

Peter yawned and took a few bites of the sandwich only to set it aside before he was even halfway through it. He still wasn't hungry and he was glad that the man didn't press him to eat more. Especially when it felt as though exhaustion was coming over him all at once. He slumped back onto the pillows, looked towards the man sitting beside him, and smiled. "Are you going to stay until Aunt May gets here?"

Tony smiled back and grabbed ahold of the teenager's hand, being careful not to disturb the catheter that was still in it. "Kid, I'm not going anywhere until you're back in one piece." 

"Thank, Mr. Stark," Peter said with another yawn as he tugged the blanket up to his chin, without removing his hand from his mentor's. 

"No problem, Buddy," Tony returned, threading his fingers through the boy's hair as he spoke. He was sure that the kid- _that his kid_ , was going to be the death of him but even still, _he loved him_. Then he huffed a laugh at his previous thought and leaned down to kiss the sleeping teenager on the side of his head. "Have a good nap, Kiddo. I'll be right here when you wake up."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ahhh! I hope that was everything you hoped it would be!! Let me know what you thought about that ending in the comments and if you'd like, come hang out with me on[tumblr](https://yes-i-am-happyaspie.tumblr.com/)!**


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